


Forecast

by Invaderk



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invaderk/pseuds/Invaderk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three separate drabbles, one for each ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forecast

**Author's Note:**

> I once had a professor that told me you couldn't have a story where there is no animosity between characters. As far as it goes with major works (plays, novels, etc) I agree that there needs to be conflict. But to be honest, there are days where I'd rather just read or watch something where the characters really adore each other and I can be like "JUST FUCK ALREADY".
> 
> These were all written under timed limits (which I broke in all three cases) because I'm trying to get a little quicker with writing. The result is that these are unbeta'd save for my quick review, and due to the time constraints they do a bit more telling than showing. I have also never written RoyxRiza before and am afraid I have no concept of how to do so. I apologize for any errors you may find, and for the unforgivable use of what is probably the most cliche RoyxRiza one-liner in all of creation. Oh, and Xingese is a tonal language because I SAID SO (and because if Xing is based off of China, then this makes sense).

_Forecast_

1.

"I think I can see the fort." Al rubs his hand over the glass to clear the condensation. "It's hard to tell in all this snow, but I think I can see it."

Mei sits cross-legged on the bed behind him, weaving her damp hair into braids. The northern border of Xing isn't known for its hospitality, but the showers are hot and the beds are soft, and once they'd settled in to the cozy room neither had anything to complain about.

"Whether you think you see it or actually see it, you're looking at one of the most important places in the entire country," she says. "Do you remember how the rebels won against the loyalist group?"

"The weather patterns. This area is known for rapidly changing conditions. The rebels learned how to recognize air pressure changes and knew to draw the enemy out just before a storm. It wasn't the most humane way of beating them, but you can't argue against its effectiveness."

"That's right!"

Al hums his interest, glancing momentarily backward to watch her deftly snap an elastic around the end of one braid and toss it over her shoulder. Then he returns to squinting through the snowfall. "When did the university move onto the site?"

"Over two hundred years ago. It's one of the oldest in Xing!"

"Wow." His nose is pressed so close to the glass that his breath fogs his vision. "I still can't believe they invited _us_ to give a lecture. It's incredible!"

"Who better to ask about the evolution of Alkahestry and Alchemy than those who have knowledge of both? You shouldn't be so surprised, Alphonse. You worked hard to get here."

"We both did. We couldn't have done it apart." Al looks back over his shoulder again. They both grin. "Have you looked over the lesson plan?"

Mei reaches for the stack of paper at the foot of the bed, picks it up and flips through. "Twice. It's perfect."

"I'm a little nervous about talking in front of an audience," says Al.

They only ever speak Xingese now that he's proficient enough to do it, but despite his marked improvement over the past few years, his accent still draws more attention than he would like. Mei seems to find it endearing, which doesn't help. Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, she shakes her head in dismissal of his worries.

"You'll be great. All we need is for the snow to lighten up so we don't freeze on the ride over."

Al shrugs. "I don't mind if it snows. I love the cold!"

"You said the same thing about the heat when we crossed the desert," Mei laughs. "I admire your tolerance, but you're going to catch a cold standing there in your underpants."

"Nah, I'll be all right."

"Really, I'm cold just looking at you."

It's her tone that raises his eyebrows. "Think I need to warm up?" he says.

"Careful, 'warm' like 'heat' is a rising tone, not a falling tone," Mei says. "You just asked if I thought you needed a chair."

"Right, 'warm', thank you," he says, correcting his Xingese. "Warm." Al grabs a blanket from a nearby chair and pulls it around his shoulders before padding over to the bed. He kneels onto the mattress and shuffles over until he bumps against her knees. "How's that sound?"

He leans in to kiss her, but Mei blocks him with the lesson papers. "Almost. Once more."

"I think I might need a demonstration." Gently taking her wrist, Al pries the papers from her hand and tosses them back to the foot of the bed. He opens his arms and pulls her in, closing the blanket around them both with his embrace. "Everybody knows the key to language learning is total immersion."

Mei laughs and kisses him and spreads her fingers over his chest. The night is cold, the snow outside melting into rain that pangs against the window, but tucked close against him she feels just fine.

 

 

2.

"Was that _thunder?_ "

Ed sits up so fast that Winry almost topples backward. It's his arm around her waist that keeps her anchored in place.

"Not sure," she says. "Could just be the wind."

Ed leans back from her just enough to lift one arm and swipe at the condensation on the window, their chests pulling apart with the resistance of a thin sweat. Winry takes the moment to catch her breath. On one hand she's a touch annoyed that he can be so distractible, but on the other, a break won't hurt either. She watches him cup his hand around his eyes and squint into the dark.

"It's really going out there," he says.

"Yeah. It was nice of the hotel staff to move us upstairs. I was worried the ground level might actually flood."

"I dunno about that. Maybe if it keeps up like it's supposed to…"

Winry sighs and tosses her long hair over her shoulders, shivering as the cold air hits the back of her neck and shaking her head at their luck. "It figures, doesn't it? Our first trip alone since the baby and it's going to monsoon the whole time."

Ed utters a dark laugh. "Guess that's what we get for leaving him behind."

"Oh, Ed, come on. Don't tell me you've got separation anxiety?"

"What?" he says defensively, shooting her a reproachful look. "Like you don't have it?"

"Okay, maybe a little… But he's probably having so much fun with Grandma that he won't even notice we're gone. And besides—" She reaches up through the small space and runs a thumb across his shoulder, down his sternum. Ed's grip on the windowsill eases at her touch. His fingers twitch into the small of her back, his nails biting down briefly. "Don't we deserve a break, too?"

"Hmm, I dunno about _deserve_ , but…" He's turned his attention to her collar bone now, and his words slur together against the skin of her shoulder. "I'm not gonna complain." He pauses and presses his mouth to the side of her neck. "It's been nice eating out instead of cooking, too."

"I thought you liked cooking," she says, not quite teasing.

"I love cooking! But it's still nice t—" His words catch as her elbows settle on his shoulders, and he has to clear his throat before he can speak again. "To have a break. You know what I mean," he says in a rush.

"Yeah, I know." Winry leans forward, pressing their bodies flush so he can lean back and grab the bottle on the bedside table. He pops the cap open and smirks at her.

"Well, the weather's not great, but at least we—Valvox?" Ed does a double-take when he spots the label. His eyes widen in slow realization. "Is this—isn't that the brand you use on automail parts?!"

Winry claps a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh, which fails. "Technically, but—"

She's cut off by a horrified gasp. "Are you crazy?" he cries, "You mean you actually put _gear oil_ on my—"

" _Shh!_ " She catches his lips between her fingers, effectively silencing him. "You'll wake the neighbors, and then we're out of luck. And don't be stupid, of course it's not gear oil. I just—I put the label on it because I keep it in my toolbox."

"Oh, that's good, I guess," he says, and she can feel him ease up. "Can't you just carry it in a bag or something?"

"I could, but I don't always have a bag. I usually have my toolbox."

Now Ed laughs, too, though he sounds more relieved than anything else. He traces his hand up the length of her spine and presses down between her shoulder blades, drawing her closer. She can feel the sweat on his forehead as he leans in against her temple.

"Who carries a toolbox more than a bag?" he mutters with a chuckle. "Crazy gearhead."

"Hey, at least I'm prepared. Actually, it's the gear oil I ran out of." She starts losing interest in the conversation at about the same time that he draws a line over the swoop of her hip and kisses her. "I had to use this stuff on a client's ball bearings, but I don't think he noticed."

"I hope that's not a euphemism," he says. She feels him smile against her mouth.

"Oh, shut up."

 

 

3.

"How's it looking out there, Major?"

With all the lights out, Hawkeye can't see exactly what he's doing, but she hears the coffee pot percolating across the room and privately thinks that any caffeine is about two hours past due. Mustang speaks low to keep his voice from seeping through the thin hotel walls.

"Wet," she says, pulling the blanket tighter around her torso. "Though I've heard the rain's supposed to let up just before sunrise."

"Well I heard it's going to keep on through tomorrow and that they'll have to delay the exercise again." The gentle chime of clanking tea mugs follows his statement.

She laughs quietly, shaking her head. Outside burns exactly one lamp post, which looks more like an orange blur through a sideways curtain of rain. The view doesn't improve when she wipes the glass with her hand. "Wishful thinking, Sir?" she says.

"Breda and Falman went out three hours ago for a hot dog and came back with a case of beer. They wouldn't risk showing up to the training exercise hung over. Most likely they got a current report in town." says Mustang, suddenly appearing behind her. "Hungry?"

He's got a coffee mug in each hand and a lopsided smile on his face. Surprised, Hawkeye secures the blanket with one hand and accepts a mug with the other. When she looks down, she sees that it's filled with half-cooked noodles in a clear broth.

"I ran water through the coffee pot without the coffee," he says, clearly proud of himself. "Give it a minute to soak up the water."

Tucking the blanket back under her arms, she holds the mug in both hands, close enough to feel the steam rising on her chest. "Very clever. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Mustang still hasn't dressed, but he doesn't seem concerned about someone spotting them through the window. It's too dark inside the room to warrant the concern, and even if some unfortunate traveler did happen to pass below Hawkeye's third story room, they'd be too blinded by the rainfall to make any sense of the blurs.

"I hope they didn't go knocking on your door," says Hawkeye, after a pause. "Breda and Falman, I mean."

Mustang shakes his head and shrugs, at ease.

"I told them I had a migraine and was going to bed early. Besides, it's been a long day. I'm sure they're all passed out by now. Hmm…" He shuffles closer, absently running the backs of his fingers up her arm. She lets her head fall into the dip of his shoulder. "I can't say I recall the last time I got a full night's sleep on one of these trips," he says.

"With you, Sir? I can't say I ever have."

Hawkeye feels the laugh as it travels up his chest. "Well let's hope we can all go back to sleep after breakfast tomorrow," he says. "I'm going to need it."

"Me too." She bows her head. Mustang is tracing a line across her shoulders, pausing at the nape of her neck and leaning in for a closer look. Since she cut her hair she's found she gets much colder much easier, especially just below her hairline, but his hand is warm and she has to fight the instinct to lean into his touch.

There's a pause as he inspects something between her shoulder blades. A moment later, she feels a pinch and he's holding something in front of her face. She has to lean back to let her eyes adjust. It's a strand of hair. Shortish in length. Black.

"I think I dropped this," he says with a smirk.

She takes the offending hair from between his fingers and drops it to the floor.

"Careful where you leave those, Major General," she says dryly. "Someone might think we're sleeping together."

She turns to face him, takes a sip of the broth. It's a little too hot and a little too salty and tastes a hint like bitter coffee, but as instant noodles go she's actually quite impressed.

"This is pretty good." Hawkeye sets the mug on the windowsill, catches his hand as he reaches to touch her, and presses his palm to her lips. "I guess you're not _completely_ useless on rainy days."

xXx


End file.
